Paw Print: The End of Us
by Anaea
Summary: Too early she was forced to grow up. Her entire clan slain, save a few cubs. With no place to call home, where will Adalwolfa go? and more importantly, How will she survive? Rated T for Future language, and violence
1. Chapter 1: Bitter Memories

Disclaimer: Do you guys think I'd be _**writing**_ if I owned these people?

**_This Path, My Path_**

**_Chapter 1: The Bard-ette_**

A lone figure sat on a bench in the park; a low, almost-slow melody flowing from the instrument she held. The neck of it rested on her left shoulder, right next to her head. Her head tilted to the left, as if she wanted to be even nearer to the music. Her brow furrowed was slightly in concentration, while he top half of her body swayed to the rhythm of the music and her boot covered right foot tapped on the ground to the beat. Her eyes, barely visible behind half-closed lids, followed the bow in her right hand as it moved from left to right and back again, the angle at which she held it changing just as constantly. Her left hand walked up and down the neck of the cello, pressing down strings, sometimes simply moving swiftly enough to bring vibratos into the music.

A steel-and-leather cello case rested, open, at her feet, a few coins and some dollar-bills at the bottom of it; a steaming cup, giving off the distinct scent of coffee next to her foot, while the cello's endpin rested between the figure's feet. A green camouflage duffel bag was set next to her on the bench, and on top of that a black violin case.

**_

* * *

_**

"Ugh, why the fuck do I gotta carry this shit?" Raab whined loudly after making his third trip to and from the Hummer.

"'Cause we're gonna go have a picnic, so shut up and hurry up," Bam yelled from the other side of the house.

As Raab continued to trudge to the kitchen for more shit that he didn't want to carry, he yelled, "What's the fuckin' point! It's February!"

"It's Valentine's Day and Ape wants a fucking picnic, asswipe! Just shut up and do it!"

"But it's snowing!"

"You know he's not gonna listen," came a new voice.

"Shit! Fuck man… uhh… you're awake?"

"No, you're imagining things. Did we run out of beer?" asked Ville.

"Uhhh… uh'dunno."

Ville rolled his eyes and yelled at Dunn who'd passed out on the floor of the Pirate Bar the previous night.

"_What?_" mumbled a very tired Dunn.

Before Ville could answer a series of crashes brought a tumbling Raab –holding three grocery bags filled with things for the picnic- down the stairs.

"Ugh… I told you guys the picnic was a bad idea…" Raab moaned, clutching his head.

Ville spared him one glance before turning back to Dunn, "where's the booze?"

**_

* * *

_**

Thirty minutes later, Bam, DiCo, Dunn, Raab, Novak, Jess, and Ville were all piled in Bam's red Hummer; and Rake was driving Phil and Ape in the limo.

**_Some time later…_**

"Duuuu-de! Why the fuck do I always have to do this?" Raab yelled.

While Raab got everything ready, Ape and Phil walked off on their own, Bam, DiCo, Novak and Jess began making a snowman and some snow angels –mostly by throwing, shoving and pushing each other into the snow. After trying and failing to peacefully have a cigarette, Ville walked away from the rest of the guys, vaguely telling so to Bam when he asked.

**_

* * *

_**

April and Phil Margera had been walking along the path for a few minutes before the heard a sound, it was a bit eerie, though not unpleasant. April dragged her husband in the direction of the sound, until they came upon a young woman who was playing a cello. She wore dirty, baggy, camouflage, military-style green pants, the bottoms of which were tucked into worn, but well kept, black combat boots. Other than that, only a black, sleeveless tank top covered her body, though quite a few tattoos decorated her arms.

"Mozart?" inquired Phil, really, classical music had never been something he liked much, but his wife liked listening to it from time to time.

"Bach." She corrected.

"Oh. Let's go check it out."

She nodded at Phil, smiling, and they both walked towards the girl. Once they neared her, Ape also noticed that the girl had an open cello case at her feet, and there was some money inside, and she also had a duffel bag and a violin case next to her on the bench where she was sitting. And when Ape and Phil drew a bit closer still, they both saw that the young woman –probably in her early or mid-twenties- was terribly emaciated; her ribs could be seen through the tank top she wore, though a small belly could be seen as well, although that might've just been a result of her slouching. And her face looked gaunt; her eyes were haunted, they looked old; her dark hair hung limply on her shoulders. But despite all of that she gave them both a smile –though she didn't pause her playing- when they took a seat on the bench in front of hers. April closed her eyes and leaned on her husband's shoulder. Phil simply looked at his wife's peaceful expression; deciding that maybe, if for no other reason, this was enough reason for him to start liking classical music.

They stayed there for another five minutes or so, before the girl finished her cello piece with one final, drawn-out, haunting note.

"Is there a particular piece that you might like to hear?" a rich, somewhat deep voice asked, slowly bringing them out of the daze the music had left them in.

"Do you play Violin also?" April asked in return, noticing for the second time that there was a violin case next to the girl.

**_

* * *

_**

The cellist nodded, smiling a little. She'd seen of them from the corner of her eye, if possible, she'd like to get them to dance to her cello, or violin. The way that he looked at her -and the way she let herself depend solely on him if only for a few minutes- they didn't just care about each other, they didn't just love each other; they were _in_ love.

After the past eight years this cellist learned to really appreciate people who could have that look in their eyes.

"Do you mind playing the Violin for a bit? I don't have any favorites, but I really do love the sound of a violin," the blond woman said.

"Would you like me to play something for you to dance to?" the Cellist asked.

The man and woman exchanged a look and, after the man kissed her, the woman nodded.

With great care, the cellist placed the cello back in its case, after she had moved all the coins and bills in it into a compartment. She then closed up the case, sat down, and, after taking the violin out of its case with just as much reverence, the woman nodded towards the couple.

Once they were standing facing each other she whispered to herself, "Here we go."

And another melody came alive.

**_

* * *

_**

"Man, they've been gone a long time… should we go look for 'em?" Dunn asked Bam, who was currently forcing Raab's face into the snow.

"Yeah let's go. We'll get Ville first." Bam jumped up and started walking in the general direction that they saw Ville walking in.

**_

* * *

_**

"Hey, there he is!" Raab pointed out the silhouette of Ville.

They approached him; he was in one of the more 'foresty' parts of the park. He was facing out towards the more normal area.

"Hey, Ville!" Bam yelled, only to have the man turn and shush him loudly.

They all stopped in their tracks, until Ville motioned for them to come closer.

"_What?_" whispered Bam.

"Look," stated Ville, pointing at a couple dancing in the middle of one of the park's trails.

"_Why are we whispering?_" hissed Raab, just before Dunn hit him on the head.

They all turned to look at whatever it was that Ville had pointed at.

**_

* * *

_**

With one final note, the cellist –now violinist- ended her song. The couple stayed still for a few seconds before the woman gave her husband a short, sweet kiss on the lips and they both turned, smiling, to the smiling girl who'd played for them.

The woman had tears in her eyes, and the man couldn't stop smiling. And after a moment of silence, loud cheering, whistling and clapping, drew their attention the line of trees just ten feet or so behind the girl.

A group of men stood there, most of them cheering and making noise, but one simply stood there, taking drags from a cigarette. They walked toward the couple who'd danced and started speaking too fast for the girl to follow, so she put her violin away, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and started patting herself down looking for a lighter.

"Here," said the man who'd been –and still was- smoking.

"Hn, thanks," she squeezed the cigarette in her hand until a distinct _pop_ came from the filter. After lighting it, she handed the man his lighter and sat down again.

"So, you're a soldier?" he asked in a half-assed attempt to start a conversation.

"Hm? Oh, was. They discharged me," she answered.

The man blinked. Discharged? "Why?"

"Huh? Oh, uhh, I guess I saw one too many deaths. They said I wasn't stable enough to the rigorous life of a U.S. Marine, so they gave me the boot." She explained, though vaguely.

"Heh, I'm guessing this is about the time when parents start dragging their kids away?"

"No, as soon as I say I got discharged they start runnin' for the hills."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"So when'd you become a soldier?"

"Me and three of my buddies signed up as soon as we all turned seventeen."

"What you guys wanted to be all together?"

The young woman smiled, though her eyes seemed a bit sad, "that was the idea."

"What happened?"

She didn't respond immediately, but the man was quite sure she'd heard him. "They died."

They both stayed quiet for some time, until the girl had to light another cigarette, then he handed her the lighter again.

"Does it hurt to talk about?" he asked. He wouldn't deny that he was curious, but he wouldn't pry if it was too painful for her to speak about.

"I'd be lying if I said no. But then again, the last time I talked about it was three days before they discharged me, 'cause they sent me to some damn shrink. If you want to know about it, you can just ask, you know?" she gave him another small smile, but this one too didn't reach her eyes. And such an interesting color her eyes were. A shade of brown so light and a touch of grayness, they were almost yellow; a predator's eyes.

Throwing caution to the wind –or down the shitter- the man asked, "How did they die?"

The girl gave an even smaller smile, but this one –though it still didn't reach her eyes- did seem to ease the harshness in her eyes. As though she'd wanted to have someone to talk to about this, but no one listened, or people were too afraid.

She turned away, towards the horizon. And she began:

"Richy, Mike, Morgan and I all went to the same schools from 2nd to 12th grade. When we entered high school, we'd decided that when we graduated, we still wanted to stay together, whether we went to college, got jobs, moved away, or whatever.

"Since we would not, _could_ not agree, we figured that we should at least agree on a way to agree. Morgan came up with the idea that we should let the person who graduated with the highest grades decide. We agreed.

"If Richy got the best grades, we would all go to college together.

"If Mike got the best grades, we'd all get jobs and just stay in the same town. Mess with the same people, TP or egg the same houses. You know, leave things the way they had been.

"If Morgan won, he decided he wanted us to move away and start a new life somewhere.

"And if I got the highest scores, I wanted to get in the Military, or, more specifically, the Marines. Despite my father having told me he'd disown me if I enlisted.

"As a perk, we all decided that, not only could we not change our minds, but once high school started, we'd start preparing to the most likely outcome by starting to study, get weekend jobs, or workout, depending who got the best grades each semester.

"Well. Needless to say, I won, and once we all turned seventeen, we called the Marine recruiter and told him we wanted to know what we'd gotten on our entry tests and the results of our physicals, and all that jazz.

"When we finished Boot camp, I was a sniper, Morgan was my spotter, Richy was going to be an engineer and Mike was simple infantry.

"We'd made a deal with our recruiter and 'cause of that we all were gonna be in the same group. That was in 2000.

"Later, what with the 9/11 thing, we all got shipped off together.

"In 2006, 'because we all agreed to re-enlist, Mike's battalion was attacked. Morgan and Richy told me. We had to identify the body, because his head had been blown to bits. The only reason we were able to identify him was because one days about eight years previous, we'd gone skinny dipping, and we teased him a lot afterwards because of a birthmark he had on his right butt cheek; shaped like a set of lips. We called him Kiss Ass for the longest time. He was the baby of our group. He died three days before his twenty-third birthday.

"Morgan, Richy and I were given two weeks off, to both go to the funeral, and pull ourselves together.

"But we couldn't take it. We called our commanding officer two days after the funeral, told him we were fine, we didn't need anymore time. All we'd done was get identical tattoos of a picture all four of us had taken together just before we'd been deployed, at a fair on our backs, with the years of birth and death under Mike's name, and birth under the three of us who were still alive.

"Four hours after we'd made the call, we were on our way back.

"Nine months ago, a rocket launcher was fired at the chopper that was supposed to have taken Richy to another military base, because they needed engineers and he volunteered. Morgan and I were, once again, called to identify the body. We had to look at the corpses for such a long time…. Everything had been burnt onto their skin. We managed to find a piece of the tattoo that was relatively intact; about a square inch of skin.

"Richy was the oldest of the boys; the smartest too. I don't think I ever heard him curse. We used to call him Squeal 'cause one time we'd been playing football, and we threw the ball at him someone called his name… he got hit right on the nuts….

"Morgan and me were once again given two weeks, and this time, we used up every minute of our vacation. We did everything we could think of. And quite a few that we didn't think of at all. We went and got 2008 tattooed on our backs, under Richy's face. On a whim we decided to get married, so off to Vegas. After that, back to the Tattoo parlor and just over our heads we got a set of and handcuffs and a ring; together with the date and stuff. Two days before we left again, we both got approved for military life insurance, which we only thought of after we'd gotten married. On the way over, Morgan and I promised each other that after we got done with the military, we would travel for a while. Later on, we would go to college, and then move back to our home town. Like that we would be able to do what Richy and Mike and he had wanted to do. And of course, what would life be without its perks; we decided that even if one of us died, the other would still do it. And we would tell our story to anyone who might listen.

"Two months ago, Morgan and I had just been walking out of the Mess Hall when we heard a yell. When we turned, we saw that an enemy had somehow gotten into the base. He was waving a gun. And he was less than twenty feet away. He took aim at me, I was of higher ranking than Morgan, so it made sense that they'd go after me… I guess.

"Before the bullets could hit me, Morgan spun around and wrapped his arms around me. By the time I got my rifle and killed the enemy, Morgan had already started drowning… in his own blood.

"I'd already been a trained killer for the better part of eight years. I knew he was going to die. So when he asked me to hold him, I held him. When he said he was cold, I told him he wouldn't be cold anymore in a little while, to hold on. Then I asked him to pick a name: that I was pregnant.

"He smiled and whispered, 'the three,' and died.

"Morgan had always been my favorite. I'd had a crush on him since we were in second grade when he beat up a fourth grader for making me cry. Whenever I needed someone to talk to, or a shoulder to cry on, he was always there. I really loved him. He was my first everything. First friend, first crush, first love, first lover, only husband, and he's given me my first child.

"Two hours after Morgan died I got orders, saying that I was going to San Diego.

"Three days later, I had been evaluated, tested, poked and probed, questioned, and had who know what done to me.

"I was declared 'No Longer Mentally or Psychologically Able to Continue to Assist the United States Marine Corps in the War against Terrorism.'

"And just like that, the people I'd told my best friends, my only family, that were good and just and who-knows-what else: those same people, threw me to the curb. They took my world from me, but kicked me away when I would've gladly given them my life.

"So now, two months later, I've finally told my story to someone."

The woman smiled at the man who was now seated beside her and this time. When he looked at her, not only did she give him a smile, but this time, it lit up her eyes and her entire face seemed to glow. In spite of the trails of tears running along her face –or maybe because of- her skin seemed to shimmer.

"Thank you. Thank you so much for listening to what I've wanted to say for so long." She said, "_thank you_."


	2. Chapter 2: Hallucinated Misery

**_Paw Print_**

_**Chapter Two: Hallucinated Misery**_

_**By: Anaea**_

"_We are with The Moon," said Conry. He looked at me, dripping blood on the white-snow-covered clearing of North Dakota. Two slabs of skin hung from him, where the enemies had almost skinned him alive. He was sitting down, whether it was because he wanted me to see the the ribs protruding from his chest more easily or because of the fact that his right hind leg was missing, save a small sliver of bone, which was hanging on for dear life, was a mystery to me._

_As I looked over his wounds, more and more mangled, mauled, chewed-up-and-spit-out, half-dead wolves began emerging, attempting to drag their ―mostly― unresponsive bodies._

_Conry snarled at me, and the wolves whose throats had _not_ been torn out, who were not gurgling out blood, followed our Alpha._

"_You! You sent us to the Moon! Witch! You killed us!" The yell, that accusation, obliterated any and every mental barrier I had only to echo in my brain, growing louder and louder, until I was sure my head would burst open, releasing the caged sound. Which would also allow for my guilt, sorrow, and self-hatred to come out to bite me in the ass, tear out my throat, and stomp on my heart._

* * *

I sat up with a cry. Looking around me I saw that I was in a cave... and that I'd shifted to my humanoid form. With a sigh I turned to look at the three pups in the deeper end of the cave... I looked towards the entrance... and turned right back. Three?! Crap! I immediately shifted and ran out of the cave. No no no no no no no...! I was missing one! Oh, gods... please let the little one be alright! I found his scent relatively quickly, and ran off, at full speed.

Without my consent, my eyes shifted, and looked towards the Moon. '_A few more hours. A few more __hours and I'll inherit the Pack._' I thought. Thinking of the Pack, my dream... my nightmare, saw it as an opportune moment to invade my mind. It'd been over three weeks since my kin had been killed. Three weeks since I'd been left to care for four pups, none of which were my own. Three weeks and I still hadn't found a place to make a home for the Little Ones. I had no idea where I was. And if it weren't for the Moon's ever-changing face I wouldn't know what day it was either.

So distracted by my thoughts I was that when I got to where the pup I had failed to notice the young bull Moose that had cornered it. That is... until I ran dead-smack into it....

'_Oh bad idea Addie... no death jokes! Crap too late! You jinxed the fight! Aaaggghhh!!! Two rabbits says you die!_' I bet against myself as the moose rounded on me...

'_Uh-oh I think it's mad...._' Cuan, the small all-over dark-gray pup said through the wind.

_'Quiet, Cuan son of Fridolf! Hide, do not be seen, and do not run._' I spoke in turn, a more than slightly-formal tone emerging with my annoyance. The cub turned and hid in the tall grass that surrounded us.

Good thing too, because the moose chose the moment to charge me. Even better, this time, I _had_ been paying attention! I jumped at it... not very smart, but I don't care! I snapped my jaws over its nose, using my right foreleg's claws to gouge out its left eye.

Heh-heh... whoops... maybe I should have tried to injure it elsewhere first.

The animal shook it's massive head wildly until I lost my grip and went flying straight at a tree. I rotated my body so that I'd hit the giant pine with my feet. I used my joints as springs to cushion the the impact, then used them again to jump straight at the moose again.... Well... I tried to but I over shot it and ended up going too high to even touch the beast... unfortunately... I was just high enough off the ground for the moose to have gutted me when it stood on its hind legs, had I not twisted my body at the last second. But that still let the damn thing dig its horn... antler... things into my right hind leg and most of my side.

I snarled loudly, whether I did it because of the pain or because of the anger I felt at having been stupid enough to get hit, I don't know.

I landed heavily on the ground almost twenty yards from my enemy, and howled in pain when I heard, and **felt** something in my injured leg snap, making a loud, sickeningly, gruesome sound.

'_I can't lose! The pups will die, I can't lose! I won't lose... I won't send you to the Moon too!_' it wasn't until I said that, that I realized that the dream was still distracting me. The moose was charging at me again... and this time I couldn't move. Why? Why should I get to live, when I caused my own pack's annihilation? My presence might have made some difference! Brother? Do you hate me? Is that the reason that you did not allow me to go? Is that why you ordered me to leave things as they were? Because I was already much, much too late? Bozkurtlar? Freki? Do you despise me as well?

The Moose was getting closer, but although everything seemed to slow down, I was still frozen to the ground.

Fifteen yards....

Ten yards....

Five....

Five feet....

'_Addie, you are my sister, you are my family, I could not hate you. You must fight! You must must ensure the survival of our people!_' The wind carried my brother's voice. Oh, how I'd missed it! '_Hey, you idiot! Snap out of it! If you die, I'll kill you, I swear I will!_'

Ah, and there it was, what we always told each other before we hunted. Now I knew that I wasn't my own memory of his voice... I wasn't that smart.

With an almost playful snarl, I ran at the moose...

'_You run like a goose!_'

'_Shut up!_' yeah... definitely not my imagination....

When the moose and I were not more than three feet away, I sprang to the right, dove under the antler, and flew at its throat, crushing in with my jaws as I dug the claws on my left hind led and both my forelegs into whatever piece of flesh I was able to get my paws on... my injured leg flying around madly while the moose bucked and shook and jumped and rammed its head into trees in an attempt to throw me off. And, oh, yeah ―did I forget?― I clung on for dear life....

'_You're jinxing it,_' my brother sighed.

'_Yeah? So what? You want to tag in?_'

'_Heh, yeah, just let go I _almost _sure you won't be stomped, kicked and crushed,_'

'_Oh, shut it... whoa!_' my left hind leg came off and I tightened my grip with my fore legs. '_Actually... I think the crushing, kicking and stomping is starting to sound pretty good now..._'

'_Hang on!_' The fur-and-grass-scented breeze that was my brother left swiftly.

The few-seconds-away-from-death moose apparently decided to take me up on that offer because next thing I know, the broken bone in my very broken leg decided to stab itself _through_ the muscle and skin surrounding it when the moose slammed its body into a tree.

I shut my eyes and tightened my grip on his throat in an effort to shut out the pain. But it did me little good; the behemoth shook its head one more time, gently compared to the chaotic strength it had displayed not a minute ago. My body smashed into another tree, though this time I hit it with my entire right side, and I heard more bones break cleanly, this time ribs, at least three.

'_Damn... I'm so tired..._' I thought as the moose, more near death than I, turned angrily towards me.

It had no strength left. I knew it. Aparently someone forgot to tell _him_ that. But he was not going to be the only one to die. So, driven by nothing but anger, pain, and hatred, he charged one last time.

Figures my brave, idiot brother's brave, idiot son would decide to jump his brave, idiot ―and furry!― little tail between myself and the stampeding beast... dumbass.

'_No, don't!_' my jaws shot out on instinct; gently but firmly, I grabbed him by the rump, and hauled him so that he was between my fore legs and covered him with my head, snarling at the still charging beast.

No use, it kept coming... guess it was a bit too much to hope for that it would be afraid of the Wolfling who'd signed its death sentence when said Wolfling was already down for the count. '_Damn, this sucks! I never got to go to Disney Land...._' I whined with dry sarcasm.

Just before the damn thing gutted me like a salmon at the mercy of a grizzly, a gigantic white fur-ball of a ... ―thing?― came out of no where and tackled it. The scent that followed it though....

So filled with fear I was that I felt no pain any more. Numbly I got up on my three useful legs '_don't move_,' I told the cub, as I use again grabbed him by his cute little furry butt, and this time I took off running... ―not like a damn goose!― in the direction of the cave where I'd left the other pups.

Not for the first time this winter, I cursed my dark coat. When the ground is covered by fluffy white snow, it's kind of hard to hide if you're dark enough to seem almost black at night.

And of course... it didn't help any that I was coming up on the last hundred yards. And they just so happen to mostly be a hundred-yard-or-so long field! And oh, but of course... this would not be the grand tale it is if not for my occasional clumsy-idiot moments. I wasn't even three yards into the field my only useful hind leg hit a rock and and barely managed to make myself let go of the Little One to avoid crushing him when the pain hit me. And since my front legs decided to keep running when my back legs decided to stop, my bum came down. Not enough? Well, my broken leg decided it wanted to rest... while my body was moving at nearly thirty-five miles per hour. Shall I dump three buckets of icing on the shit-filled cake that is my day? I let loose a half-howl, half-snarl, and turned to glare at my stupid leg... and what should I see but three werewolves running at me. One seemed to be dark gray... oh joy, I vaguely wondered if he occasionally wished his coat were another color. Another was brown-_ish_ with, what seemed to be, black legs. And the last one was the white fur-ball that probably tortured the poor moose.

The gray wolf was a bit bigger than I was. The white one almost twice my size, and the brown one was bigger than the white one.... Yeah... oh joy....

Forget about my second wind, right at that moment I got my fourth wind and I ran to where the pup had landed, grabbed him and took off again. I took off in another direction, away from the small cave. I ran back into the forest and followed my ears to a not-so-small creek, jumped in, went out the other end and began running again before I remembered that with my leg bleeding as heavily as it was, it was unlikely that my very wet self would make them lose my trail. Told you I wasn't all that smart....

'_Boz would love to throttle you right now_,' said my lovely nephew with a giggle.

'_Whatever. Why did you leave the cave anyways?_' I not-so-playfully growled. I turned in a wide arc to make my way back to the cave.

'_I was thirsty_,' he answered.

I waited a few moments, jumping over the strip of water since the creek was much narrower here. _'You do remember that there is ice at the back of the cave that I told you was safe to lick, right?_' I asked him.

... ...

... ...

... ...

'_Well?_'

'_Whoops?_'

I would have berated him for his idiocy... but I was five feet from the cave opening and I rushed in. The three other pups were awake already... and only then did I realize that the sun was rising. I told them to stay in the shadows, but as close to me as possible. I turned back to the entrance just in time, because the white wolf had just taken a couple of steps too many into the cave. I gave an almost roar-like snarl, and my front paw shot out and clawed his muzzle.

His head snapped to the side before he gave a rumbling growl.

He took another step, and of course, I tried to slap him away again... bad idea. His jaws quickly closed over my paw, not hard enough to crush the the bone, but definitely hard enough to draw blood. With less than little effort he tossed me over his shoulder, over his companions, out of the cave and thirty yards into the field, where I came to a stop after bouncing a few times and hurting myself further.

The gray and brown wolves turned to look at me while the white one approached the cowering cubs, while young Cuan stood defiantly between them and the werewolf.

In on last ditch effort to prevent the cubs' deaths, and shifted ―rather painfully― to my humanoid form.

My pale blue eyes slowly darkened and became gray-green orbs. My marroon-colored coat slowly but surely receded into my body, revealing, by now, bloodied, but fair skin. My tail tingled as it withdrew into my spine. My right leg throbbed painfully as the bone protruding from it became larger. Two ears descended from the top of my head and came to rest one its sides and became elvish-looking ones, while the fur on my head became only a little longer, and turned a dark brown, glowing bronze with the light of the rising sun. Declaws climbed down towards what were slowly becoming hands and feet.

I slowly stood. Barely over five feet tall, light-skinned, hazel-eyed, pixie-haired, blood-covered, teenage-looking girl; exposed, naked, at the mercy of the brutal November winds of where ever I was and to the mercy of three werewolves. My right thigh bent inhumanly out of shape; my right side had two vertical, parallel wounds running from breast to hip; my left shoulder now dislocated, the forearm swelling from when I hit the ground and it ended up between myself and a rock; two ribs trying to tear their way through my skin and a third already there, the gleaming white bone gross in every sense of the word. All in all, not a cover-worthy picture.

And after all that effort, all I could do once the white wolf turned from the pups and towards me was whisper, "no, please," in a human tongue and when I attempted to take a step forward my right leg decided to give out with a disgusting _keh-gurg _signaling that not only the skin had split further, but that something had broken.

"Please," I pleaded one last time, and with that, I fell forward, and the world turned black.

* * *

Bozkurtlar means gray wolf(Turkish)

Freki myth name of Odin's wolf(Norse)


	3. Chapter 3: Bad Dreams are Bad Omens

**_Paw Print_**

Chapter Three: Reluctant Recovery

**By: Anaea**

_I was running… while my brothers and sisters chased after me and the rest of the pack and, more importantly, last spring's batch of cubs, watched._

_My brother, Conry, who lead the mock-hunt, made a swipe at my back leg with his paw, tripping me and I went skidding to a stop a few yards away. Before I could get up and run off again, he'd come around from my back side and encircled my throat with his jaws and the other three 'hunters' jumped on me and gently nipped at different parts of my body, pretending to tear off chunks of flesh from the still-living prey that was me._

_We stayed there for a few more moments; me pretending to struggle, and them pretending to be eating my alive. Finally, with one final 'attempted' thrash, I died. My head fell back; my tongue hanging out of my mouth, and the Hunt was complete._

_The pack came alive with howls and barks, as if to tell anyone and everything around us that we'd successfully brought down prey. The distinctive yip-like barks of the pups brought me back to life and rolled over belly-up and I wiggled around, playfully submissive; yipping in time with the pups who'd come and jumped on me._

_I jumped up and decided to tease and play with them. I jumped away from them, facing them. The front part of my body was down on the ground, my butt up in the air, tail wagging. I yipped a few times and the pups ―still less than perfectly-graceful― ran at me. One bit my ear, one tripped on the way, another ran behind me and went for my leg trying to unsuccessfully trip me way my body was stationary. And the last ran over my back and tackled my tail. Finally the one who'd tripped came and sat in front of me and cocked her head to the side, as though confused; while her brothers had their fun. I blinked and when I opened it was only to see her little paw come down on my eye._

_The sting forced a howl from my lips and I jumped back at the pain._

_She turned around and began running back to the rest of the pack who seemed to be laughing, their tongues lolling on the side of the mouths. Before she got to them though, I pounced and grabbed her by the rump with my jaws, turned and ran… and the pack began mock-hunting us again…._

* * *

Samuel ran into room Number 1 in the Aspen Creek motel carrying a small dead-looking body in his arms. How she had managed to stay alive he didn't know, but he did know that it they didn't stop the bleeding in the next two minutes, she _would_ die Charles came in right behind him carrying six or seven first aid kits, he hastily dropped them and began securing the straps that had been attached to the after Adam the Columbia Basin Pack Alpha had been brought in half dead just over five years ago. But of course, they hadn't actually needed them since then… until now. He adjusted the tightness of the leather strips. And was just finishing up when his and Samuel's father walked in holding four struggling wolf cubs.

Once Bran was inside he closed the door with his foot and lowered the pups who chose that moment to turn towards him and they simultaneously slashed at his face much like the unconscious girl had Samuel. Leaving the man to wiggle his noses to try and hold off a sneeze.

They jumped out of his arms and ran together at Samuel who was currently the closest to the girl.

They scratched and bit and otherwise attempted to get him away from her but he ignored them. Both Charles and Bran approached and grabbed two pups each, letting Samuel to work in relative peace for a few minutes….

But after he had bandaged most of the smaller wounds, popped her shoulder back in its socket, set the less severe brake on her right fibula and bandaged the wound on her right side, he gave aheavy sigh.

He took one long look at the three ribs and then another at the femur bone protruding from her left leg. If he set the femur before the ribs, she most likely would wake violently, and ―most likely― try to sit up, or arch her back to roll with the pain. Regardless which option she went with, the straps would stop her, and that would probably break the fractured fourth rib and cause further damage the broken fifth, sixth and seventh ribs.

On the other hand, if he fixed the ribs first, it would definitely make her thrash, which would without a doubt insure that her right thigh became damaged beyond repair in which case he was almost certain she would stop living.

Thanks the gods that his brother's mate chose that moment to make her appearance. She came in swiftly, and silently. Within two seconds she'd scanned the room and its occupants. Instantly she made her way to Charles and the Marrok, taking all four pups, all of which became less hostile and made her way to the door, only to stop, looking down at the fur-balls in her arms and turn back. She went to the far corner of the room, her chest rumbling in what was almost a growl, but without any of the aggressiveness of one.

The pups settled, and were asleep within seconds.

The other two men in the room were already beside Samuel, and followed his example when he began unbuckling the straps.

Slowly, carefully, Samuel and Charles sat her up.

"I need you to sit behind her. Put your arms around her and make sure she doesn't move," Samuel said, turning to Bran immediately afterwards, leaving no room for objections.

* * *

Charles glanced at his mate, and saw the impassive look in her eyes, clearing showing that she wasn't all-too-happy about it. But she caught his eyes and her eyes softened; she gave a slow nod and a small smile, the silent '_it's okay_,' rang clearly between husband and wife.

With a jerky nod of his own, Charles sat down behind the girl, one leg on either side of her.

* * *

Samuel turned to his father after telling his brother what to do.

"Do you think you'd be able to set the bone, Da?" he pointed at the gleaming white bone of the girl's leg.

"I'm guessing the ribs are more fragile," Bran replied, but he nodded.

"Yeah, and there's a fractured one that might brake and pierce the right lung if it's done wrong. We're gonna have to do both at the same time. If we try doing one at a time it'll kill her," that one of the deaths wouldn't be a physical one wasn't mentioned. Samuel turned to the ribs; Bran's hands hovered a few inches above the leg.

Charles leaned back, so that the upper part of his back rested on the headboard of the bed.

Samuel placed his hands just over the ribs, when the girl gave a pained moan. "Sorry 'bout this," he whispered. "One, two," he turned to look at his father one last time.

Bran nodded to his son, understanding that Samuel would have preferred to mend the bones more slowly, to lessen the girl's discomfort. But there was no time.

"Three!" Samuel almost yelled. A series of things happened then; with three cracks and one deafening, and very loud snap, the bones went back to their proper places; the girl gave a scream so pained and loud that the Samuel and Bran were forced back, Charles and Anna had to let go of the girl and the pups, so that all four of them had to cover their ears in an attempt to block out the sound that had already penetrated their skulls; the girl began levitating, and then hovered about six or seven feet off the ground, all-the-while shifting to her lupine form until the still-on-going scream became a howl; four silver threads that smelled like moonlight shot out from her chest and connected with two of the pups.

Charles and Anne jumped in front of the two threads headed towards the dark gray and brown-and-black pups.

Magic swelled around the girl and shot out in waves, making Bran and Samuel sway on their feet. The magic felt similar to an Alpha's power, yet it was distinctively different. By the time the third wave of magic hit them, they both decided that it felt like a silk-covered crow bar.

"_Will you heal her?_" spoke hundreds of joined voices.

While Samuel and his father glanced at each other, Charles and Anne dropped on all fours in response. And without bothering to undress they both began shifting into their wolf forms.

Two loud yelps drew the two still-human werewolves' attention to the two pups were connected to the girl via the silver threads. They were shaking and convulsing in an effort to bare the pain. That was all warning they needed, they both got between the pups and the girl: breaking the connection and making reattach itself to them.

"_Will you heal her?_" the voices repeated.

Without any warning, their wolves reared up and began forcing the change. Unlike any other times though, there was no pain, just a pleasant tingle as their bodies changed.

The injured she-wolf, still about six feet off the ground, moved towards them; and her body began descending so that by the time that she was between them she was no more than a foot off the ground.

Sometime during their Change, her howling had ceased. And when she was directly between them, she slowly lowered her body to the ground, finally sitting down between all four of them. Her shoulders hunched, and her nose pointing straight down, she inhaled as much air as she was physically able to, with the bandages constricting her chest.

After a few seconds, while her Brother's four pups and her four darker cousins watched her; her shoulders straightened, and her neck rose. Her ears laid down flat on her head. And finally she threw her head back, letting loose a strong, loud howl, only slightly tainted by her pain.

Her howl soared alone for but an instant, because the next moment the voices of the room's eight other occupants joined hers.

* * *

Bran slowly began feeling his side open, but there was no pain, he felt different bones in his body fracture and brake, but there was nothing, it did not even sting. As soon as he took on an injury, the magic around them touched him life the cool touch of a mother's finger on her child's scraped knee.

And looking around him, he immediately knew that he wasn't the only one who'd come to that conclusion.

* * *

Two minutes. That was all it took for my injuries to completely heal. Then again, perhaps I shouldn't be surprised, since the healers _were_ werewolves. Afterwards, I used the Pack to shift them back to the human forms; though they seemed a bit surprised that they were clothed.

I too shifted, but only because it would be easier to assess for any remaining injuries.

'_Wow, neat_,' I thought, looking myself over. Not a scratch in sight.

"Am I the only one who feels like running out to play?" whispered the female. Why she whispered, I don't know.

"Oh, good I'm not the only one then?" replied the reddish-brown one. I twirled on my right foot. A giggle escaped me lips; my leg felt brand new!


	4. Chapter 4: Hearing the History

**I've been forgetting to do this so... just in case y'all didn't know, I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING YOU RECOGNISE!!!! *looks around* did I spell that right? *blink blink***

* * *

**Paw Print: The End of Us**

**Chapter 4: Hearing the History**

**_By: Anaea_**

* * *

The use of the Pack left me feeling giddy and too energetic. I'd have to run....

The pups behind me began shifting and I ran to their side.

* * *

Bran watched as the pups' bodies bubbled, as though something were boiling underneath.

The girl raced and began petting them, cooing softly, and the small creatures began yipping and growling softly; almost playfully.

When the hair on their bodies began receding into their bodies, Bran turned almost immediately to his Elder son.

* * *

Samuel gawked at the shifting little bodies.

After a minute the pups were replaced by four toddlers.

Three of them were boys and there was one little girl.

Two of the boys and the girl had skin the color of a brand-new penny. The one who'd been a dark-gray pup had dark brown hair and light brown -almost gold- eyes. The other boy -who'd been a black, brown-undersided pup with black eyes and an almost sliver tip at his tail- had brown eyes and black hair. And the girl -who'd had a light brown coat, four white feet and different colored eyes- had dirty blond hair: her left eye was blue and her right a light brown-gray.

The last boy had chocolate-brown skin, darker then his siblings, black eyes, and black hair.

They must've been no older than three or four months, the pups. But they seemed to be around two or three years old now. They were beautiful....

Both he and his wolf agreed for the first time since Mercy first appeared in their lives that there was hope after all.

* * *

Finally, after a few minutes, I managed to make them stand and walk on two legs instead of four. They caught on quickly enough... unfortunately we were still stuck in a cage with four werewolves. Regardless of whether or not they helped me heal, they still brought me here. I herded the pups towards the door, making sure to never show them my back. When I got to the door though I found it locked.

"Any particular reason I being held here?" I asked, turning to glare at them.

One of them took out some sort of handheld contraption and spoke into it. The thing spoke back...

'_Magic?_' Cuan asked me.

I shook my head, "science," I spat. Science was bad. At least Magic depended on the user and its purpose. I'd never had an encounter with science that I'd enjoyed. It was blasphemous! Brother Earth wanted to be allowed its secrets, and humans kept tearing down his defenses and exposing more and more of his soul!

I heard someone moving on the other side of the door and jumped away so that both it and the werewolves were in my sight.

With ease the Cuan (light-brown eyes), Faolan (brown eyes), Maccon (black eyes), and Felan (one blue eye, one gold) also jumped, covering the five feet as effortlessly as I had.

When the door opened, the scent of human preceded the man who stepped inside. He gave the room a once over, as though surprised that it wasn't in shambles.

"Well," he said, "Number 1 survived. Good." With that he turned and looked at me. His gaze traveled along my body, up and down and I growled. He smiled. Jerk.

The sandy-haired man, who was also the smallest of the three males, stepped forward, "that's enough Matthew. Thank you for opening the door. You may go now." He spoke. It was a request in its wording, and a command in tone. Luckily, the human knew better that to challenge him: he turned, and walked out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind him.

Before I could take off, the cinnamon wolf, now a definite Native American of some sort, spoke, "Perhaps you might like some food, before you go."

If I'd been the only one there, I would've rudely declined, despite the fact that I knew they wouldn't take no for an answer. But I had four pups with me, none of whom had eaten solid food in almost two days.

But regardless of their hunger, they looked at me and didn't interrupt.

"Lead the way," I told the man's feet. He and his mate walked out.

"Da, Samuel, you coming?" He spoke again, asking them to follow him.

They did.

And I walked behind them, the pups tailing me, abruptly shifting to my original form after taking my first step outside: the change was complete before my foot hit the ground. And the pups were walking on four feet soon after. So I walked after them. If I wanted to, I could probably outrun them, but there was no way that I could take all four pups with me. And I couldn't be openly hostile because if a fight broke out, I knew I could not take them. Odds were also in their favor.

So, tail pointing straight out, parallel to the ground, ears pulled back, I cut my eyes at them and followed.

* * *

We entered the house a few minutes after everyone else, and I instantly knew it belonged to the one called 'Bran;' mainly because it smelled like him. Beige walls, black and brown furniture. Eh, I'd seen better. And worse. Unfortunately, the thought didn't distract me from the fact that Samuel was behind me, closing the door.

We followed the other three; the pups walked under and in front of me, shielded from sight of the man behind me.

When we walked into what I assumed was the kitchen I saw that another female had joined the werewolves. And Bran had just finished telling her that the pups and I all had human forms. He had probably already told her everything else. One good sniff and I knew she was his mate.

... Lovely....

She looked at me and I immediately smelled her hatred and envy. Something about the look in her eye told me that if I wasn't careful, she'd steal a pup. An instant later I was crouched over the pups, snarling at her.

"Leah, I need to speak to her." Bran said to his mate, and I disliked him a bit less for it.

"Then speak," she replied, not taking her eyes off the pups. "What does she want for them?"

The response was immediate; Bran was on his feet, the cinnamon wolf said, "what!?" incredulous, the other female tensed, and Samuel stepped up beside me, flexing his hands as though wishing they had claws and not fingers.

There was two seconds of silence, before power swept everywhere around us, coming from Bran.

The taste it left in my mouth was one that I had felt before. It was a combination of two things. Marrok... and Guardian....

I let my magic sweep through the room, shielding myself, the pups, as well at the other three werewolves; but also made the layer of magic subtle enough that Bran would either not see it as a challenge, or not sense it at all.

This woman had never learned any sort of respect... she disrespected my brother's pups in the most horrible of ways!

* * *

Bran quickly covered the few feet separating him from his mate. This was the last straw, even his wolf wanted to howl in shame.

Leah felt her mate's power like the harshest of gales. She turned to him only to have her head snap back with a resounding *slap* when Bran's open hand made contact with her face.

* * *

The order was silent, but apparently Leah knew better than to ignore it again. Her eyes scanned the room again and she glared at me, as though it had been my fault she'd gotten herself in trouble.

He turned to where I was, still crouched over the pups, snarling and growling at anything and everything. "It's alright," he said, "we aren't interested in your young." A lie so obvious the pups began moving back.

I barked angrily. I hated liars!

My ears stood straight up, my hair bristled, and my back arched.

"Fine, we are interested, but we won't rob you of them."

This time he spoke truth so I moved next to the pups, though I still kept myself between them and the others.

Anna looked in my direction and slowly lowered herself to the ground, sitting down so her eyes were level with mine. And Charles began looking around inside a large steel box.

'_Refrigerator, used to store food._' My eyes drifted to the side where the voice came from. The same Shade who'd stopped me from going to avenge my kin sat there next to me.

"_Brother?_' I asked. And in response he gave me a wolfish grin.

'_The_ Moon _decided I should join the Pack, since you would miss me more than anyone else._'

'_What form did the Pack take with you?_' I asked.

His head cocked to the side and his tongue hung to the side, as he gave the wolf-version of a chuckle, '_Mum's gran'mum._'

For a second I simply looked at him, too many questions racing through my head for me to voice them. Finally I managed to shake my thoughts and simply said, 's_ounds interesting._'

* * *

After the pups and I had eaten - something which seemed to amuse, but also unsettle, the werewolf males and intrigued the female because I chewed the pieces of raw steak and the pups ate it like that - Anna persuaded us to accept some T-Shirts to wear, and we were all in human form, we sat at the table. Bran sat at the head of the table, Samuel at his left, Charles at his right and Anna on Charles' right.

"Who, exactly, are you?" Bran said; his voice strong, his tone suspicious.

"My name b- is Adalwolfa, born Mórríghan. These are Felan," I motioned to the girl, "Maccon," I pointed to the darker-skinned boy, who was sitting on my lap, "Faolan," the boy next to me waved at Anna and jumped behind me when she smiled, "and the last one is Cuan, now Convel."

The golden-eyed boy beamed at me; his eyes shinning with joy. All four of their birth names simply meant 'little wolf' in one way or another, his new name meant 'wolf warrior.'

When I became silent again my wilder cousins exchanged looks before Samuel spoke, "what was that magic? Back in the motel?"

"That was the Pack," I responded, calmly. I shut my eyes, allowing my nose and ears to show me things instead.

"You have a pack?" now it was back to Bran.

"Not a pack, the Pack." When I smelled their slight –or in Anna's case, not so slight- confusion, I elaborated, "it is the general term of my people, for magic commanded by the Alpha."

I knew exactly what they were going to ask before Bran asked it, "a female as Alpha?"

I couldn't help it though, my eyes snapped open and I grinned at him showing him all my teeth, "Yes, Females can be, and have been Alphas. My mother's Grandmother was one of the greatest Alphas, she led my people for over eleven hundred years, and under her we thrived. If not for the Curse, you'd probably have some female Alphas as well; perhaps you might've even been dethroned by one." My answer was sharp, but I needed him to ask the right questions, and without meaning to, my last statement had come out in a mixture of Welsh and Old English. Damn… so much for getting them to ask the right questions.

"What curse?" Bran yelled. He was now leaning forward on the table, his palms flat on it, fingers curled; like claws.

One of my eyebrows rose and I tensed up. He must be pretty old if he knew Old English the way I spoke it. But he was pretty stupid if he tried to make me talk by frightening the Little Ones; now all four of them were behind me. I threw one nasty look at him before getting out of the chair I was in, gathering the pups and walking out of the room.

* * *

I returned a few minutes later, and the pups weren't with me.

I sat down, took a deep breath, "If you raise your voice in the presence of the Little Ones again, I will not help you with the upcoming War." I spoke, looking him straight in the eye. Challenging, yet not threatening in my tone. When he sat back, I could still see the harshness in his gaze, but with the Pack and my Brother's spirit backing me up I didn't see him as a threat.

Samuel cleared his throat, taking over for his father, "Would you mind telling us about the curse you spoke of?"

I gave him a small smile before closing my eyes, leaning back on the chair, and telling them what they wished to know.

"The Curse, the Magic used by a family of witches over ten-thousand years ago.

The Magic, the Spell, the Curse, which separated the Soul and the Beast:

Making Lycanthropy nothing more than a virus; consuming Humans, killing them slowly, but not freeing them.

A Magic my people were not strong enough to combat, for all that we were able to re-direct it.

Every one of you here… every Werewolf everywhere, is related by blood.

To find the connection you might have to go back as many as fifty generations, maybe even more, but you are all related.

You are all descendants of my people.

We –that is, my people- redirected the Curse so that it would only take fruit in the people who'd be most likely to be able to control the Beast.

That is why mauling anyone who isn't a descendant of my people –or whose blood has rejected their heritage- kills them."

I opened my eyes and looked at each one of them… they didn't seem very happy… specially Bran.

"Ten-Thousand years and we're only just finding out about it?" He growled.

I quirked an eyebrow, "would it have made a difference?" The knowledge would have benefited them little, and comforted even less.

Before Bran could say something else, Charles spoke, "What about this war you mentioned?"

I closed my eyes again and began speaking again.

"Once my kin redirected the Curse, We set out to both kill the witches and to kill the Seven Siblings –who were the first werewolves.

We succeeded in banishing the witches to the Other Side, but were unable to truly kill them.

The Beasts… The Beasts are a different story entirely.

My… what you call a pack… consisted of over three hundred wolves we hunted down four of the Siblings, one after another, but not only did the last three stick together, but even with all of my family fighting, the four Beasts we slew managed to kill all but ten of us.

So we went back to what is now Ireland and remained there, mostly, for the past seven thousand years.

About fifty years ago, the wind brought my brother a message, the witches had freed themselves. Not only that, but they'd also hunted down the remaining Siblings.

A month ago, the withes ambushed my brother and the rest of our pack when they'd gone to investigate a disturbance. I was left behind to guard the Den.

The witches ordered the Siblings to attack, and they did.

The four pups and I are the last of our kind.

The Witches, if their goal is still the same –and believe me they won't let something as trivial as ten thousand years in purgatory deter them- they'll try to undo the magic of the Pack.

And after that, they will be able to control all wolves, not just werewolves, but also carriers of the Wolfling-atavism. Their ultimate goal is to kill all Fae, by absorbing their magic, as well as the Gray Lords.

To break our spell, all they need is to kill every last True Wolfling.

As far as they know there is only one left: Me.

I had Faolan, the Tracker look for the scent of the only living Guardian.

What I didn't expect was to also find a Witch-Wolf, a Resistant, and a Treasure."

"Guardian? Treasure? Resistant and Witch-Wolf? What are those?" Charles asked.

I stared at him for a few seconds, and then looked at the others… how could they not know?

"Bran is the Guardian… I believe you call him a Berserker?" I looked at Samuel and he nodded. "Charles, you are the Witch-Wolf, even if your magic can't compare to a true witch. Samuel, wolves half your age have succumbed to the trials and harshness of time, you are Resistant. And lastly, Anna is an Omega, once called Treasure."

"Okay, I get the first three, but why treasure?" Anna asked.

"Your lineage, which connects you to Wolflings, consists of only women. Your mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's mother's… and so on. You are also the descendant of a Mother, the strongest, and fiercest, of all types of Wolflings. If someone were to endanger your mate, you would become something akin to a Berserker; except much stronger, faster, and vicious. It would be temporary, and you wouldn't be attacking everything in sight."

"How many types of Wolflings are there?" Bran asked.

I sighed; apparently they were done with the right questions, "Fangs, Trackers, Runners, Singers, Treasures, Guardians, Magicks, and Mothers. So… eight?" I mouthed the titles and counted my fingers… I never had been good with numbers….

Suddenly I gasped and ran out of the room, a moment later a shriek was heard and the others came out to the living room as well.

* * *

**Sorry took a few days ^_^' bye**


	5. Chapter 5: Getting Off on the Wrong Foot

**I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING YOU RECOGNISE!!!! **

**_Paw Print_**

_**Chapter 5: Starting with the Wrong Foot... ugh....**_

_**By: Anaea**_

* * *

I was crouched in front of three of the pups –the males to be precise- while the girl, in human form, sobbed in my arms, whimpering, softly. On the other side of the room stood Leah; holding her face with her hands, as blood dripped down to the end of her chin and down to the floor.

"What happened here?" demanded Bran, going to his mate.

"She attempted to take Felan." I growled.

Finally prying Leah's hand from her face, Bran, and everyone else, saw the claw marks running diagonally across the whole of her face. I put Felan down right on time, because next thing I knew, Bran had me pinned to the wall, three feet off the ground, by the neck, and he was growling.

"What did you do to her?" he snarled, but each word was perfectly clear: unfortunately, his rage was too.

I didn't answer, I couldn't. A bit more pressure and he would crush my windpipe. Just as I'd begun to pass out from lack of oxygen, Bran was shoved off of me by Samuel. Anna moved quickly and grabbed Bran around the middle in an embrace. Seconds later, the rage left his eyes.

Meanwhile I fell to my knees, and almost on my face but Samuel grabbed me before I could.

'Will you heal me?' I asked him telepathically, it hurt to breathe so I decided to not push my luck by actually speaking. I couldn't see him nod, my eyes were shut, but I heard the soft 'yes' that passed through the surface of his mind. And though I could not see it, I knew that as soon as he'd said it a Ray of Moonlight had connected my throat to his.

* * *

Once I was healed I opened my eyes, only to see that I was laying down on a brown couch, with Samuel kneeling beside me, head thrown back as if howling. With my right hand I touched his cheek, to bring him out of the trance the Pack had left him in.

But instead of blinking, or jumping, he leaned into my hand until I was cupping his cheek.

I stood up leaving him where he was, he'd snap out of it eventually.

Looking at Bran, where he sat on the other side of a wooden coffee table, on a couch identical to the one I'd been laying on.

"What your mate suffered is called Magic Backlash, it happens when someone attempts to penetrate offensive shields. In this case, when I brought this Little Ones to this room, I left most of the Pack with them. It set up a shield that could not be penetrated by anyone intending to harm the pups in anyway."

"Liar!" Leah yelled from next to her mate, I saw that the wounds on her face had stopped bleeding, but in their place there were now four silver, linear scars. "I wouldn't have hurt them!"

"Not intentionally. But you aren't a Wolfling, nor are you a wolf, being in the presence of ones with no true harmony between Beast and Soul will make them fall ill. Did you think of that?" by the way her glare intensified I guessed not. "Did you know that the most painful way for a Wolfling to die is alone? Why do you think werewolves stay together? Even the Curse could not tear the longing for family, for a home, away from you!" only when I heard the pups whimper did I notice my voice had begun rising, so I stopped and took a few deep breaths.

"I think you're making that up!" she screamed again and the pups began cowering, whimpering more loudly from where they were next to me.

Finally Samuel came back to reality, and, with the pups being between us, he began petting them, scratching their ears; until they became less and less afraid.

"As you can see, he," I nodded towards the White Wolf after a few moments, "he is able to get past the barrier, and now that you've tried to hurt them, the shield is stronger. And you won't be able to touch them at all."

"I wasn't going to hurt them." Leah used one breath for each word, each one dripping more anger and hatred than the last.

"The Pack believes different. And the Pack does not lie. Whether you meant to or not is not the issue, harm would have befallen them one way or another if you'd taken them."

Obviously knowing that she was going to get no where by arguing with me, once I had calmed down after making the pups jump slightly; remaining completely apathetic in tone, my voice completely unwavering, Leah growled out, "whatever, when will my wounds heal?"

"They will heal when the Pack and the Moon decide you've become a proper werewolf."

With that I turned my attention away from her and back to the pups… who were playing with Samuel –now sitting cross-legged on the floor- trying to catch his hand, which he kept moving around.

The look in his eye though was one I had seen in many old wolves. I vaguely wondered it he'd ever had offspring of his own, but I put that thought out of my head with minimal effort. I was here for soldiers, for help. And honestly, I wasn't expecting to survive this war.

The pups and I needed to rest, as soon as they stopped playing they'd drop and I'd have to carry them. But I was standing on my last leg, and it too would soon give out.

* * *

Just like I'd predicted, Cu- Convel, soon climbed onto Samuel's leg, curled up and was asleep within seconds.

Carefully I knelt and picked him up together with the other three. "You mentioned something about a motel, what are your rates?" I asked Samuel.

We turned to Leah when we heard a snort, "do honestly think we'll just give you a room? We don't do charity work."

"No, I didn't ever mistake you," I nodded at her, "for a charitable person."

Before she could get started, Samuel stood up, patted the non-existent dust from his pants, and spoke, "I'll take you if you want, I'd like to talk to you about something. And some people would most likely not let you have any peace." He led me to the door, closing the door behind us.

The wind blew after we were a few feet from the door and I instantly yelped; it was quite cold. I turned to Samuel, "Would you mind holding them?"

He smiled, "not at all." He took them and I immediately shifted to my furry, warm form.

Shaking the remaining chills away, I began walking again. 'So, what did you wish to speak to me about?' I watched him as I spoke, but to my disappointment he didn't jump, or yelp, and give any sign that this was strange… darn! But then he simply turned his head in my direction, one brow quirked.

"I'd rather not be overheard."

'Think of a color,' I told him.

'43,' he thought.

I almost rolled my eyes, '43 was not a color, last time I checked.'

He turned his head towards me so fast his neck popped, I gave him a grin.

'Right, well that's freaky,' he thought.

'What is?'

'You, reading my mind.'

'Oh? And what do you call knowing what I'm thinking?'

'I can only here thoughts that you try to project. In my clan, our consciousness, or spirit, can travel from mind to mind. If our Alpha had been a Mother, like the one who birthed me, or her granmum, and the whole clan except for her had been killed, her body would have created Hosts, and the pack would come alive again. So you are sadly mistaken if you think this is as 'freaky' as we get.'

By the time I'd finished we had arrived at the place. It was old, nothing fancy, so I didn't hate it. When we walked in I shifted again, still wearing nothing but a T-shirt that hung to my knees, and the sleeves past my elbows. Once Samuel got a key for a room, I placed about five gold coins on the counter where the human, Matthew seemed to be manning everything.

The coins were not big, not too small; they had a head of a woman, Athena, the Greek Goddess of Wisdom, carved on one side.

The human gawked at the coins and Samuel spoke, "are these authentic?" I guess he'd seen these before, though I seriously doubted that he'd been alive where these were around.

"Yes, the Moon stores the rest of my family's treasures."

Samuel took all but one of the coins and placed them in my hand, "then one is more than enough."

I nodded, and held the coins to my chest chanted a bit in a language I knew no one save the pups would understand. A silver glow enveloped the coins and when it faded, so did they.

* * *

We stepped into the small room, and Samuel walked to the bed, setting the pups on it. We watched them for a few seconds until they rearranged themselves into a big ball of fluff, then he and I sat on the chairs at the small table.

'Best if we speak like this,' I said.

He nodded and thought, 'firstly, judging by the difference in size when they,' he nodded toward the pups, 'shift and yours I would've thought you were two, maybe three years old, the way you walk, the way to speak, you mannerisms, they all seem like those of an old woman. Do you age differently than they do? Or does the aging process slow down after a while?'

'I am a Mother; we need much, much more time to mature –physically- than others. The pups will reach maturity in about two years; then they'll stop aging completely. I on the other hand, have aged much more slowly, and if I don't find a proper mate within ten years of having reached maturity, I will begin to age twice as fast as humans, and I will die.'

'At what age do Mothers reach maturity?'

'At about three thousand, we mature one year, for every thousand we've lived.'

'So how old are you exactly?'

I shrugged, 'ask a vet, I honestly don't know. I'll know when I turn three thousand, but I don't know when that'll be.'

'What're your earliest memories?'

'I remember my brother taking me to see the first Olympic games.'

He nodded, took out a handheld contraption and was about to flips it open when I put my hand over his, 'if you're trying to contact one of the wolves I've met, I can let you contact them telepathically, I don't like this century's technology. '

He nodded again, 'Charles, then.'

I closed my eyes and an image the enormous cinnamon-colored wolf took shape behind my eyelids; his eyes, golden, with the predator always lurking behind them, not in control, but not concealed either. 'Charles, Witch-Wolf?'

'Adalwolfa?' his voice came back.

I stood, walked around the table and stood in front of him. I placed the tips of my fingers on the sides of his head. Closing my eyes again I focused on pulling his mind into mine. After a few seconds I felt a cool breeze blow past my mind's barriers and I knew he was in. While they spoke, I hung back and let myself be distracted, letting them have a bit of privacy.

* * *

To my relief, their conversation only lasted about a minute. But when I pulled my hands away from Samuel, after putting his mind back in his body, I swayed, and almost fell, but the next moment, his hands were wrapped around my arms, steadying me.

He walked me to the bed and sat me down, 'you should go to sleep.' He said.

I shook my head, 'no, I have to keep watch.' If there were more people like Leah around here, I wouldn't be sleeping any time soon.

He stood up and began undressing, shifting slowly to his wolf form afterwards. He simply lay there on the floor for a while, huffing and puffing.

I rolled my eyes and got down on my knees beside him. I knew it was painful when a werewolf shifted; it left their skin feeling raw, and the pain only intensified when they came into contact with something, so I really wasn't surprised that he began growling when my hand got too close for comfort to his side.

"Oh hush," I chided him, "I couldn't interfere once you'd begun shifting, I could've helped you make it faster and relatively painless." I used the Pack to envelope my hands in a moonlight-colored light and began petting him, getting rid of as much of the pain as I could.

'I'll keep watch, you sleep,' he said… right before he passed out.

I rolled my eyes at the very, very big fur ball, 'yeah, you do that, kid.'

* * *

I let the four –ugh… five- pups sleep for a couple of hours before reaching out for another mind, 'Anna? Treasure?'

'Uhm, hello, is this the Wolfling? Hello?'

I couldn't help but smile, 'yes, it's me, listen, I'm at the motel-place, in room uhhh, fourteen I believe, Samuel and the pups are asleep, and I'm not exactly comfortable leaving them—'

'Alright, I'll go over right now, be there in five. Do you guys need food, or something else?'

'I think we'll just need food,' I said.

'Alright, mind if Charles comes too?'

'No, he may come if he wishes.'

* * *

And true to her word, Anna did indeed arrive –Charles in tow- no more than five minutes later; carrying two gallons of water, while her Mate lugged in four grocery bags filled with steak and other edibles.

Good thing too, because both the pups and Samuel had begun rousing from their sleep. While Samuel yawned and stretched, the four began jumping on each other; starting to play again.

After a few minutes, we'd put most of everything away, so I grabbed a piece of steak and began tearing off chunks and giving them to the pups when they asked for some. Anna and Charles were now sitting at the table, Samuel was sitting next to the best, I was on the bed and the pups were playing on it.

Samuel, still in fur-ball form, stared at me for a few seconds so I opened the link between us, 'yes?'

'Mind if I try?'

If I hadn't been certain before, I was now; he really was beginning to think of these young ones as his own. 'Sure,' I gave him a piece of the steak I was holding, which he proceeded to chew more than was really necessary. When the pups looked at me, asking for more I pointed at Samuel, and they began licking his muzzle. And the steak fell out of his mouth with a splurch.

With little hesitation, the pups began fighting amongst themselves, trying to assert their dominance. Once Felan had pinned all of them down, she went and ate, roughly, one fourth of the steak, leaving the rest for the other three; and once again the fought. In the end Convel was the most dominant of the boys, and Maccon was the least. But regardless of that, they all ate more-or-less equal shares of the food.

"Remember how you mentioned that there were different kinds of Wolflings? What kind are they?" asked Anna, motioning towards the pups.

"Felan is a Fang, or a soldier. Maccon is a Howler, or a Singer; Convel is a Runner, and Faolan if a Tracker. Faolan was the one who tracked you." I replied, not once looking away from the pups.

"Are they born differently? Or, how do you determine what they are?" asked Charles.

"When they are born, the Moon tells the one who birthed them. They relay the message."

We spent several hours there, just talking, we ended up agreeing that I was most likely around twenty-seven hundred years old… not that it would really matter, I'd know when I was three-thousand and that was good enough for me.

* * *


End file.
